


Closed Eyes and Empty Hearts

by LunaStories



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), BAMF Dean Winchester, Blood Kink, Castiel eats humans, Creature Castiel, Dark, DeanCas FlipFest, Familiar Castiel, M/M, Murder Husbands, Possessive Castiel, Protective Castiel, Revenge, Witch Dean Winchester, a lot of blood, but dean and cas are cute, dark fic scenario wise, dcff18, sam is dead :(, they be killing the people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 13:33:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14521662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaStories/pseuds/LunaStories
Summary: Sam is dead, murdered, leaving Dean despondent and broken. A blood witch by heritage, Dean embarks on a quest for vengeance with Castiel by his side. The familiar is everything he’s never wanted. Despite Castiel’s heart eating tendencies, Dean knows his heart is safe with Castiel. But after all the horrifying acts Dean has committed in the name of revenge, he doesn’t believe he has one anymore. They say home is where the heart is, and maybe Castiel can be his.





	Closed Eyes and Empty Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fic I wrote for the Deancas flipfest hosted and created by the wonderful mods of the profound bond server. (I absolutely adore those lil sinners) 
> 
> Before we start, I would like to give my thanks to the people of the profound bond server for always being amazingly supportive and overall cool beans. 
> 
> Thank you to the mods for running such a unique awesome fest (and for dealing with our crying/stress/confusion as a bunch of newbies lol)!
> 
> This story would also be a mess without my ever amazing BFF Laura who edited grammer, my beta reader [JJ (spnhell)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnhell/pseuds/spnhell) for seriously giving me some quality edits that helped me improve, and my alpha reader [angelwingsandhunterdreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelwingsandhunterdreams/pseuds/angelwingsandhunterdreams) who read it over and made sure everything was coherent! Thank you all for your time and I appreciate everything you guys have contributed to this fic <3
> 
> And of course, I would be lost without my artist [jdragon122](https://jdragon122.tumblr.com/) who's been an amazing friend with the same low brow meme humor as me ;) She is not only an amazing artist but a very kind individual and I'm just over the moon that she chose my fic *fans self*. I'm honestly more excited to show you guys the art than the fic haha. It's her first time doing gif art!! And it looks soooo good hng. And in addition to the banner, this fic is looking mighty fine and pretty with art. There will be one more additional art piece depicting Dean and Castiel's first meeting that we'll add in later :) It's still in progress and alas, we ran out of time xD The art we do have is beautiful though I hope you guys enjoy it. 
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy this fic baby created in one night of passion ;)

  


Dean grimaced as he cut into the woman he had tied to a chair. She screamed, or tried to, through the gag that he’d muffled her with.  
  
He didn’t apologize, as he glanced at the tome he held in his hands before placing another precise cut right above her chest. He’d realized, after the first few people he’d used up, that apologizing didn’t help. It didn’t help the overwhelming guilt he felt, it didn’t help that after he was done, he would always cry and retch until he had nothing left.  
  
He always felt empty, nowadays. He found that the more he killed, the easier it was to accept his new life.  
  
And the closer he was to finding his brother’s killer.  
  
That was what kept him alive these days, knowing that with each innocent person he killed, it was just paving a road for the day he inevitably avenged his brother.  
  
He didn’t apologize. He also didn’t bother comforting her. They were all empty words.  
  
With one last look at the book, he nodded to himself, making sure that all the symbols were precise. He only had one chance at this. He needed to do this spell while there was a lunar eclipse and he had a virgin who was pure of heart.  
  
She was the fifth girl he’d taken; he really hoped her heart was pure. Even though he was used to killing to make ends meet, it still broke what little was left of his heart. He thought of his life as _before Sam_ and _after Sam_.  
  
Before, when he still had his little brother, he’d been carefree. He maybe had skewed morals, sure, but it was okay because his brother was there to set him straight. Dean knew what was right and what was wrong, and he knew his brother would have cried to see how far Dean had fallen.  
  
After Sam, when he had clutched his brother’s broken body tightly to his chest, when he’d cried, his tears falling into the gaping cavern where his brother’s heart had laid, he’d felt his own heart darken. There was no doubt in his mind that he would stop at nothing to avenge his brother.  
  
This was just another challenge he had to overcome. He told himself it was worth it, as he dipped two fingers into one of the woman’s cuts. He traced a familiar symbol onto his wrist, wincing when it glowed and then sunk into his skin. Almost immediately, his hand started growing sharp claws, the tips curved and wicked.  
  
The woman seemed to cry even harder at the sight, struggling in her chair as he approached her. He usually didn’t apologize, and yet when he saw those hazel eyes that reminded him _so much_ of Sammy-  
  
He closed his own eyes as he pressed the claws into her chest, whispering “I’m sorry” over and over again as she screamed.  
  
Once he ripped her heart out, once she finally fell silent, he opened his eyes. He stared at the still pulsing heart in his hands, blinking hard when it seemed to glow for a moment before settling.  
  
Well, that was different. For one, the heart was still pulsing and that definitely didn’t happen the last few times he’d done this ritual.  
  
Hopeful, he glanced around the warehouse, the darkness of the room oppressive as the eclipse removed all light from the world. His heart pounded as he heard the howling of the wind, the speed of it picking up and rattling the rafters of the building. It smelled damp, like blood and moldy wood. He could almost taste the sudden cold, the scent of mud and things long forgotten sticking to the back of his throat and choking him. When he breathed out, it was shaky with the memories of death. He licked his lips, feeling the chapped skin as he waited.  
  
The heart glowed brightly, and he shielded his eyes from the sudden burst of red light. When his eyes focused again, he was met with the cat-like gaze of a man who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.  
  
As the clouds moved overhead and the eclipse ended, the moon cast it’s light upon the man. He was completely naked and absolutely ethereal. His skin was almost pale white and his hands ended in claws, much like the ones Dean had as he held the pulsing heart. His entire hand up to his elbow was smeared with tendrils of black that almost seemed like layers and layers of dried blood. Dean couldn’t avert his gaze as the man crossed the room, until he came to a stop in front of him.  
  
He tilted his head and squinted at Dean. Dean couldn’t help but feel like he was being analyzed, as the creature’s gaze swept over him. Despite the obvious otherworldly features the man possessed, he was mostly human in appearance. He could easily pass as a normal human, if he put away the eyes and the clawed hands. But who was he to judge? Dean was more of a monster than this creature. He just hid it better.  
  
Then, he opened his mouth, and Dean could see the rows of sharp jagged teeth that lined his jaw. Dean swallowed and, with a trembling hand, offered up the heart.  
  
The man stared at the heart for a minute, as if he was just made aware of its presence. Slowly, he leaned down and took a bite of it, keeping intense eye contact with Dean as he ate. The moment he did, the pulsing stopped and a shockwave was sent through the room. Dean felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck and he didn’t need to check to know that all the trees around the warehouse had just died. He could smell death in the air, and it made something in him yearn for more.  
  
Finally, after staring at each other for a long moment, the man spoke.  
  
“ _I am χ α σ τ ι ε λ._ ” He rumbled, his voice holding an ancient power that had Dean resisting the urge to flinch back. It wasn’t a normal voice, instead it seemed to echo in the warehouse, the cadence of it calm and steady. “ _You have summoned me for a quest of blood and I shall accept, for your heart is true and her heart was pure. We are bound by heart and we shall be bound, by blood._ ”  
  
Dean couldn’t help the feeling of awe that the creature instilled in him. It was only with a pointed look from the man that Dean hurriedly completed the binding.  
  
“I am Dean Winchester.” He started, reciting the words from memory and shaking from the adrenaline. “I have summoned you for a quest of blood and I shall receive you as my destined familiar. We are bound by heart and we shall be bound, by blood.”  
  
The instant he finished those words, he instinctually dropped the heart and used his clawed hand to carefully cut open his arm. He offered it to his familiar, heart pounding as the man let out a rumble of pleasure. He wrapped a clawed hand around Dean’s arm and brought it up to his mouth.  
  
He was careful to avoid hurting Dean with his teeth and after several languid licks, the wound closed up. The familiar then repeated the same motions, allowing Dean to partake in his blood with half-lidded eyes.  
  
When Dean lifted his mouth off of the wound, he knew what he had to do next. He closed his eyes and waited. The familiar didn’t hesitate. With a moan that sounded much more like a growl, the familiar placed his clawed hand onto the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him close. He pressed his mouth against the human’s and Dean could feel those sharp teeth through the cloying tang of blood. His kiss felt like death and madness. It felt like home.  
  
Dean knew that the kiss to seal the deal was meant to be a short peck, but it seemed they both wanted more. Every time they pulled apart one of them would surge forward again, capturing their lips with a biting kiss.  
  
Finally, lips swollen pink and smeared with blood, Dean pulled back and opened his eyes in a daze. The familiar now looked completely human. A sardonic smirk crossed Dean’s face, knowing they were both monsters with human disguises. He had tanned, weathered skin rather than the inhuman, almost translucent hue he had before. The hands were claw free and the slitted pupils were now a normal black. The man had beautiful blue eyes and, without the fangs, he looked almost harmless.  
  
Of course, Dean knew better. After all, it wasn’t the first time he’d met this creature. 

xxxxxx

Before Sam, when he was still a child, young and innocent, he’d met a man.  
  
It wasn’t a normal meeting, rather it was one which instilled a sense of longing within him. He remembered their first encounter in vivid detail.  
  
It was a dark moonless night and, after putting Sammy to bed, he’d snuck out their window to explore the woods near their house. The clouds covered his part of the world in darkness, fog obscuring his path through the trees. He wasn’t used to this place yet. After mom had died, their father decided to move to this more secluded area. His dad was grieving and Dean knew he had to be strong for his family. More days than not, his dad was lost to the bottle, negligent of his two sons. Dean was barely twelve but he already had the weight of the world and the responsibilities of an older brother holding him down.  
  
He didn’t mind it. It was fine. Even if he couldn’t play with his other friends from school, he was okay with it. Sammy was his responsibility after all, and he would be a good older brother. He spent most of his days tending to his brother’s needs. The boy was quiet and it made Dean feel a rather fierce maternal protection towards him.  
  
Sometimes though, he enjoyed the peace and quiet, the nights when he could just breathe and listen to his own thoughts for once.  
  
He walked into the woods, just far enough that he could still see the light from the house. He didn’t want to get lost in this fog, after all.  
  
Just as he’d had enough, the cold making him shiver and clutch his arms to his chest, he heard a sound. It was one that wasn’t familiar to him, but he was curious all the same.  
  
_Crunch...crunch…squish..._ _  
_ _  
_ That was weird, there was no one else for miles. Their house was quite literally in the middle of the woods. Against his better judgement, he followed the noise.  
  
Slowly, he walked through the woods, his shoes pressing into the wet leaves and leaving a squelching sound every time he lifted his feet up. He sneezed, wiping at his nose with small hands as he squinted into the fog, trying to figure out where he was going.  
  
Finally, he stopped at a clearing, mind struggling to comprehend what he was seeing. The mist seemed to avoid the clearing, as if even nature feared what was happening under the darkness of night.  
  
There was a…creature. A man of some sort with eyes like a cat and elbow deep in the body of a person. Dean watched detached and not horrified, but rather curious, as the creature lifted up the heart of the man, his victim, and bit into it. He realized with a jolt that the creature had been staring at him as he ate, his gaze piercing and cold. With a mouth full of fangs almost completely drenched in blood, the man finished eating the heart.  
  
After what seemed like hours, frozen in shock, the creature spoke.  
  
“ _It is not your time yet, little one. Go back home._ ”  
  
It was almost as if he wasn’t in control of his body because between one moment and the next, he found himself at home, shivering from the cold. The last image he remembered was the man’s fanged and bloody smile, the promise in them had made his heart beat faster. He knew he should feel frightened, he knew he should be horrified. Yet, he wasn’t.  
  
Because somewhere deep down, he knew that the creature belonged to him and that he belonged to the creature.  
  
The next day he told his dad about his encounter. A part of him didn’t want to. It whispered to him with all the possessiveness a twelve year old shouldn’t have. It wanted to keep it secret, keep the memory as only his.  
  
But his dad was already suffering and he didn’t want to make it worse by hiding secrets that could come up in the future. Despite being young, he’d grown far too mature for his age. Death and alcoholic fathers do that to a child.  
  
When he’d explained what he’d seen, his dad had paled. With hands shaky from fear and over six shots of whiskey, his father had knelt down to his height and grasped him by the shoulders. His grip was near painful, and staring into his father’s bloodshot, red rimmed eyes, Dean felt like he’d done something wrong.  
  
“Dean.” His father’s voice was solemn, a desperation that Dean didn’t understand laced through his words. “Promise me to never go out into the woods alone again. Promise me you’ll never hurt anyone and you’ll never spill any blood.”  
  
At the time, his father’s insistence seemed out of place, but eager to please him, Dean had readily agreed.  
  
“I promise.” It was said with a quiet whisper, but it seemed to relieve his dad. His father sighed and slumped forward, hugging him tight. This was the most affection the man had shown him since his mother’s death. He held him as if he was going to lose him and it worried Dean. It was okay though, he would protect his family. His dad didn’t need to be sad anymore. When he grew up, he would make sure they were all safe and happy.  
  
Dean clutched his father close, fists twisted into the back of his dad’s shirt, and closed his eyes.

xxxxxx 

It wasn’t until after Sam, after the events that led to his death, that Dean had found the book. His father had drank himself to death years ago and, with the death of his only remaining family member, Dean had been left bereft and colder than he’d felt in years. He had taken it upon himself to clean out the house, determined to sell it and move to a smaller place where he wouldn’t be haunted by the memories of his dead family.  
  
In their attic, he had found a rather interesting looking tome. He could tell it was ancient by the cracked green leather it was wrapped in, and the fragile yellowed pages inside. It smelled slightly metallic, and had darkened brown-red splotches that looked like coffee stains.  
  
He didn’t realize, until he opened it, just how much he could hate his father. He didn’t understand what the book was for, at first. Instead, he took out the aged letter, slipped into the first page and read it.  
  
It was addressed to him from his father and, as his eyes darted across the page, he felt rage spread through his mind.  
  
_To Dean,_

 _If you are reading this it means I have failed. I’ve failed to protect you from this lifestyle and the consequences that come with it. If you’re reading this, I’m most likely dead. I’m sorry I left you boys alone, I wish there was another way this could have ended._ _  
_ _  
_ _There is no easy way to say this so I’ll be clear to you now._

 _I killed your mother. She was like you, a witch with an affinity for dark magic, particularly blood magic. It wasn’t her fault she was born like that and it’s not yours either. Blood witches can resist the urge to kill and use their powers for most of their lives. However, once the time is right, their familiar will approach them and they will become full-fledged witches, with the bloodlust to go with it._ _  
_ _  
_ _She resisted for so long. I loved her and I wanted the best for her. When she came to me, a poor innocent’s heart in hand, I knew it was too late. She’d found her familiar and she’d killed to give them an offering. Now that she’d started, she would never stop killing. As long as blood gave her power, she would crave it._ _  
_ _  
_ _She begged me to kill her, and so I did._ _  
_ _  
_ _I watched her die in my arms, eyes gone empty and vacant. I lost her that night and I lost my heart as well. I hope that you will not follow that same path. When you told me of your encounter with a familiar, I knew he was yours and that you had inherited Mary’s lineage. I’ve tried many times to destroy this tome but it is all I had left of her legacy. I couldn’t bring myself to do it._ _  
_ _  
_ _I can only hope that you will learn from her mistakes and live a peaceful life. Don’t look for your familiar, and reject them when they come find you. It is the only way you’ll keep your hands clean of blood._ _  
_ _  
_ _Remember, take care of Sammy. At the very least, resist going down this path for him._ _  
_ _  
_ _No matter what happens I’m proud of you son, both you and Sam._ _  
_ _  
_ _\- John Winchester_ _  
_  
Dropping the letter onto the floor, a whimper slipped out of his mouth. He covered his trembling lips with the back of his hand and bit hard enough to taste blood. The anger, the grief, and the pain began anew as he screamed. He screamed until his throat was raw and all he could do was let out choked sobs. He clawed at his chest, wishing with all his heart that he could lose the ability to feel. It was too much. He now had no one he could trust, even his memories of his family were tainted with blood and pain.  
  
He couldn’t help the bitter laugh that he released, falling onto his back with a tear streaked face and raw bitten lips. His father had assumed Sammy would be here to help guide him through this discovery or, at the very least, anchor him to his humanity.  
  
It was ironic then, that he was going to go down the path his father forbid, in order to find Sammy’s killer.  
  
Slowly, with an aching heart and body, he sat up, pulling the tome closer to himself. It was time to get to work.

xxxxxx

Dean glanced at his familiar as he drove the Impala. He’d dressed the man in a dark robe he’d found tucked in the back trunk. It made him look like a cult follower but it wasn’t a bad look for him.  
  
Clearing his throat, he averted his gaze, concentrating on the road ahead as he spoke.  
  
“The name was…?” Dean mouthed the word he’d heard the creature speak a few times. It wasn’t in English so he wasn’t entirely sure how to pronounce it.  
  
“Castiel.” The man looked at him, turning his head away from where he’d been staring out the window.  
  
“Right, Cas.” The creature gave a huff at the shortened nickname but didn’t protest. “You’re not going to say it’s too soon or whatever?”  
  
Dean made a gesture with his hands, truly confused at the lack of protesting from the familiar. He remembered the first and last time he’d seen Cas, the familiar had made it clear that it wasn’t their destined time to meet. Since Dean had summoned the familiar instead of letting Castiel come to him, it was technically cheating.  
  
“It is.” Castiel answered, though he did smile at Dean’s words. “You remember our first meeting.”  
  
“Well, yeah.” Dean shrugged, feeling uncomfortably like the creature was very pleased to hear that. He would have to have a pretty shitty memory to forget meeting a creature that had been eating a human in the middle of the night.  
  
“I’m glad.” Castiel replied back, resting his chin on his hand as he stared out the window again. “It is too soon, but I answered your summon. I was getting impatient, waiting for our destined meeting.”  
  
Dean didn’t speak, unsure of how to navigate conversations with this deadly being. He’d been alone for so long on his quest for revenge that he hadn’t really had a proper conversation with someone in a while.  
  
After a few moments of silence though, he relaxed. It was easy being with Castiel. The familiar seemed to instinctively know what he needed and was content to let silence wash over them. It was comforting in a way, that this familiar felt like home.  
  
Once he’d discovered what he was, he’d researched almost obsessively. He’d learned of the existence of familiars and how there was a destined time that they would meet, almost like soulmates in a sense. The witch would not meet the familiar until they were ready or needed them.  
  
There were witches that practiced magic with lighter affinities, such as nature magic. Their familiars always matched the witches in every way.  
  
As a blood mage, it seemed that Castiel was the perfect match for him. After all, his type ate humans and with the trail of bodies that blood magic left behind, Castiel would not be lacking in nutrients.  
  
Despite the fact that it wasn’t their destined time yet, Dean had summoned Castiel for one specific reason. He was getting closer to hunting down the witch that had killed his brother but he needed a significant power boost to cast the final locator spell. With a familiar, he would be able to do stronger magic.  
  
At first, when he’d done the summoning spell the first few times and they’d all failed, he’d feared the worst. Maybe he was too damaged to have a familiar. Maybe this was the world’s way of punishing him for all the innocents he’d killed.  
  
When Castiel had finally answered the summon, he’d almost fainted from excitement. Finally, the one destined for him was here. He was no longer alone.  
  
And as he glanced at the familiar, sitting in the passenger seat his brother used to occupy, he couldn’t help the clench of pain in his heart. It was relief and it was grief all wrapped up in one tangled mess and he relaxed, knowing that he would never be alone again.  
  
They would burn the world to the ground, together.

xxxxxx

It took months of killing, hunting, and gathering materials before he managed to create the perfect spell to track down Ruby.  
  
Dean still remembered how she had smiled at him, when his brother had introduced her as his new girlfriend. He remembered feeling unsettled, as if something in him recognized what she was. He understood now, years too late, that she had been a witch.  
  
His brother had been the unfortunate victim of one of her spells, nothing but an ingredient.  
  
He ignored the voice, the one that seemed to speak with Sammy’s cadence and tone, that told him that he was just like her.  
  
As if sensing his distress, he felt another body press up against him from behind. Castiel wrapped his arms around his hips, loosely, and propped his chin on his shoulder. After the first few times Castiel had ignored his personal space, he’d gotten used to his familiar’s almost cat like tendencies of touching him as much as possible.  
  
Despite the darkness in his heart, he had to admit that every time his familiar treated him like he was precious, he would feel alive again. It made him feel loved, and he knew very well that they would have to address the unspoken feelings between them. He knew that his familiar wanted him in every way, not just a normal witch and familiar relationship but rather one that was possessive and biting in its intensity.  
  
The last two women he’d slept with, he’d found dead in his bed. From the slashes on their throats and the look of horror on their faces, it had been Castiel. He always found their hearts intact, as if Castiel was disgusted by them and couldn’t even bring himself to eat.  
  
After that, he’d stopped sleeping around. He didn’t feel like it anyways, Castiel was enough to fill up the void in his heart. He remembered the vicious triumph in his familiar’s eyes when he’d told him he would stop. He remembered the biting kisses Castiel had given him and how they’d fallen into bed together almost naturally. It had been bruising and exactly what he needed.  
  
He could admit that he felt the same, that he felt a twisted sort of love for Cas, but right now, all he had room for in his heart was blood and revenge.  
  
“Almost done?” Castiel asked, his voice rough with sleep, as he’d just woken up. They were in their motel room and Dean was preparing the bowl of ingredients he needed. He had his map spread out on the table as well. Once he finished the concoction, it would pool onto the location Ruby was at.  
  
“Almost.” Dean replied, his mouth pressed into a grim line. He relaxed when Castiel tugged at his hair, baring his neck. The familiar pressed blunt human teeth in, and he knew he was going to bruise again. He groaned, pausing in his motions as he held onto the table with a white knuckled grip. Castiel licked over the bite a few times, humming in pleasure when he saw the teeth marks. Dean didn’t blush but it was a near thing. With great reluctance he tugged at Castiel’s arms, unwrapping them from around him.  
  
“Not right now Cas, we still need a few more ingredients.”  
  
At his words, Castiel nodded, though the twitch of his fingers told Dean that he really wanted to touch him. They would have to continue later, his revenge was so close he could almost taste it.  
  
With a gesture to Cas, the familiar went into the adjacent bathroom, dragging out the unconscious man. Dean placed the bowl next to the man’s head as he lifted him up by his hair. He made sure that his neck was right above the bowl before he slapped the man a few times with his free hand.  
  
Castiel frowned, watching with a slightly perplexed head tilt. His eyes flickered and they were a slitted yellow for a few moments before changing back into that familiar blue.  
  
“Wouldn’t it be easier to have him unconscious for this?”  
  
Dean sighed, thankful that he’d had the foresight to gag the man as he whimpered and blinked awake.  
  
“The spell requires the human to be awake as we do it.” Dean grimaced, holding out his hand for a knife as Castiel handed him one. Maybe he wouldn’t feel as guilty if he could make sure his victims didn’t suffer. However, the blood witches of eons ago were evidently very sadistic, and made sure every living component of their more inventive spells required the victim to suffer profusely.  
  
He’d gotten good at ignoring the part of him that enjoyed the torturing, that breathed a little easier at every life he took. It was almost like every drop of blood he spilled fueled his own veins, pumping them and making him feel more powerful. It was intoxicating but he knew it was the dark craving for power inside him that made him feel this way.  
  
As long as he had his revenge in mind, as long as he had Cas, he refused to lose himself to the bloodlust. It was almost tragically funny how things worked out; that the only things keeping him from killing for sport was his reliance on a creature forged from death and a mission based on violence.  
  
“Should’ve chosen another hotel to work at.” Dean muttered as he slit the throat of the hotel manager. He watched as the blood hit the bowl, the darkness of it tempting him. Grinning, he continued the slow slicing motion, sighing as the screams died out into choked, wet gurgles of agony.  
  
Once he’d bled him out, shaking the head a few times to be sure, he let the man go with a thump and a wet squelch. He picked up the now full bowl and, placing it on the table, muttered his incantations.  
  
He focused on the symbols he smeared onto the map using the blood, ignoring the crunching sounds of Castiel breaking the man’s rib cage to get to his heart. Usually Cas ate the entire body, but hearts were still his favorite. The irony wasn’t lost on him then, that while Castiel hadn’t consumed his physical heart, he certainly possessed his metaphorical one.  
  
Once the symbols were glowing a brilliant red, he put down the final ingredients. With a sharp prick on the tip of his finger, Dean watched as the blood swelled up and dropped into the bowl. It seemed to bubble softly for a moment and he knew he needed more power for it to work.  
  
He met his familiar’s eyes and Castiel stepped closer. Unsheathing one of his claws, he sliced a long line up his arm and let the blood flow into the bowl. The instant Castiel’s blood touched the mixture, it started bubbling intensely. Almost as if it were boiling, the blood spilled over the bowl and started moving towards a location on the map.  
  
The moment it settled, Dean let out a noise of surprised glee. She was only a few miles away. The last few spells he did had been weaker and had only pinpointed the general area she could be in. Though that sounded helpful, it wasn’t. The spell’s definition of “general area” seemed to encompass several states.  
  
Now he was closer than ever and he was ready for it to be over.  
  
He ignored the small part of him that worried. What would he do after he killed her? What would be his purpose in life?  
  
Castiel tugged him close again, distracting him from his thoughts, and pushed him towards the bed. Both of them were still smeared with blood but that only seemed to excite them more. Castiel pressed a thumb into his mouth and Dean licked it, moaning at the taste of blood. He could feel Cas’ erection pressing against him and he panted, overwhelmed by lust.  
  
Castiel’s gaze was haunting in its intensity, the blue of it flickering in between a slitted pupil and yellowed iris. He could tell the familiar was excited. There was a distinct vicious possessiveness in the way Castiel held him, soft but firm with a palm on his cheek, and he knew that any normal person should be scared-  
  
But to him, it felt like safety. It felt like belonging. He felt _owned_ .  
  
He closed his eyes as Castiel took him to their bed, happy for the reprieve from his dark thoughts.

xxxxxx

When he finally caught her (Ruby was her name, Ruby, the blood red gem that reminded him so much of Sam’s death, of the red spilling out of him as he laid there silent and cold) he could have spared her. That’s what Sam would have wanted.  
  
He knew Sam would have wanted him to stop, his gentle giant of a brother. And yet-  
  
He knew and yet-  
  
He smiled, the grin tinted with blood as he slowly pushed his magic into her, burning her from the inside out. He felt the screams as if they were his own. The screams of death and the loss of innocence.  
  
Even as she choked, she laughed.  
  
“You’re just like me.” Her tone was mocking as his magic raced through her. “Look at what you’ve become. You’re magnificent, a true blood mage.”  
  
Dean gritted his teeth, pushing his magic harder, staring into her bleeding eyes with hatred.  
  
“Your brother was just another ingredient. It was nothing personal. You-” She cut off with a scream, laughing hysterically as she clawed at the muddied ground. “How many people were just like Sam? How many ingredients did you kill to get to me?”  
  
He didn’t answer, and finally, she went silent. Her body convulsed for a few moments, the last traces of his magic sparking through her.  
  
Dean knelt there, numb. Staring unseeing into the distance, he finally came back to himself when Castiel placed a gentle hand on his face, turning him until he met his familiar’s eyes. It was such a contrast, feeling that love and the adoration as he was held in the grasp of a hand that ended in sharp claws, tainted with blood.    
  
“Dean.” Castiel’s voice was soft, rough. It settled something inside of him. He grasped at the hand on his face like a dying man, nuzzling into the palm even as it smeared blood all over his face. Why was Castiel’s hand bloody…? Ah, he must have taken care of her followers. “Let’s go home.”  
  
Home. Did he even have a home anymore? His quest was over. There was nothing left.  
  
And yet-  
  
“Dean.” His name was said with such reverence. He didn’t resist when Castiel pressed a kiss on his lips, the taste infected with darkness and hunger.  
  
His body surged forward, uncaring of the blood on his knees as he grasped a desperate hand onto Castiel’s robe and pulled down. He gasped, the noise wet with tears and relief. Finally, he was free. There was sadness to it, and pain. Castiel held him through the worst of it.

  
  
  
When he was done, when he could finally breathe again, he pressed his face into Castiel’s shoulder.  
  
He placed a hand in the pools of blood around them, shuddering as Castiel ran a bloody hand through his hair in gentle strokes, the claws careful, despite their deadly nature. He knew that his familiar was dangerous, that he was a killer, but it didn’t matter to him. He was one too, kindred spirits and all.  
  
Drawing power from the lifeblood they were kneeled in, Dean let his magic wrap around them, the thick tendrils surrounding them in a wriggling mass of shadow. They dripped dark droplets, resembling the blood he’d spilled, and the innocent lives he’d taken. They say home is where the heart is, but he wasn’t sure he had one anymore.  
  
Before he could let the full weight of what he’d done overwhelm him (all those lives he’d taken, so many just like Sammy), Castiel tugged him back by his hair, until he was no longer nestled against his familiar’s body.  
  
Staring into those slitted pupils, he could vaguely feel the tears falling down his face, a hole in his heart opening up now that he’d fulfilled the revenge he’d craved for so long. It was okay though, Castiel would fill every crevice of him until there was nothing left. He didn’t need to worry, because he knew his familiar would never let him go.  
  
_Close your eyes._  
  
His clenched his eyes shut as Castiel gently covered them with the palm of one clawed hand, his eyelashes fluttering against those bloodied palms.  
  
_Let’s go home._

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Phew! I hope you guys liked that!! If you did please leave a comment and/or kudos it really helps keep my cold, dead heart beating.
> 
> You can find the art masterpost [Here](https://jdragon122.tumblr.com/post/173536538005/closed-eyes-and-empty-hearts-art-for) and the rebloggable tumblr version of the story [Here](http://lunastories.tumblr.com/post/173536611957/closed-eyes-and-empty-hearts-masterpost) :)
> 
> I was also informed it was Sam's birthday today so uhhhh *Nervously* Happy birthday Sammy? 
> 
> Other people: birthday fic!!
> 
> Me, an intellectual: death fic
> 
> Haha well if any of you guys want to join our community of destiel shippers you are welcome to do so with this [link](https://discord.gg/GGbw2NP).
> 
> You can find my tumblr [Here](http://lunastories.tumblr.com/). Feel free to drop by and say hi!


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